


Discipline

by Enide_Dear



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Butt Plugs, Discipline, M/M, Poor Prompto, Sexual Humor, and gladio knows way too much about this, ignis is a bastard, noct has absolutley no clue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 08:08:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10213235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enide_Dear/pseuds/Enide_Dear
Summary: Prompto drives Iggy up the walls with his messy ways; the advisor finds a way to establish some discipline. Mostly humor, implied smut.





	

If there was one thing Ignis couldn’t handle it was sloth and disorder; some small part of him would rather face Niffs than an unruly room although he sought to repress that feeling. A chaotic room was no threat to his prince in *principle* but…..  
   
His neves were getting sorely tested during this road trip turned exile.   
   
Gladio was not a problem, of course. The man was military raised and that meant strict order and an ability to travel lightly was grinded into his very bones. In fact, he had even showed Ignis some clever ways to fold socks which would not get them wrinkly and thus lessen the risk for chafes during long hikes. Ignis pants all but dropped by their own Accord right there and then.   
   
Nor was Noctis a problem, truth to be told. The unspoken agreement was that Ignis handled all the prince’s luggage, small as it was, and in return Noctis didn’t protest if his pants were pressed to within an inch of their life or his socks washed with enough starch to stand up in attention all by themselves.   
   
No, it was Prompto who gave the advisor a headache.   
   
The young man was an absolute mess; in acts defying both time and space he managed to spill the content of his – not very large – suitcase all over camp and hotel rooms, creating a chaotic mess of socks, underwear, old candy wrappers, chocobo greens, cactuar statues, camera paraphilia and Astrals knew what else over every available surface.   
   
Every night.   
   
Without exceptions.   
   
The problem was, Prompto was *not* a crown city guard, a ‘glaive or any kind of member in the military or the kingly household, meaning Ignis had no right to order him about. Nor was he a noble, so Ignis couldn’t act like a chamberlain to him. Which left him with nothing but nagging, pleading and yelling, none of which worked and all of which just created a bad mood for everyone.  
   
It didn’t help that Prompto seemed genuinely sorry about the mess he made either and usually made some sort of effort to clear it up, which usually just resulted  - again in defiance of all natural order - in more or a mess until Gladio had to lead Ignis away and get him some Ebony in a nice, quiet place.   
   
“I don’t know what to do, truth to be told.” He confessed to the Shield at the edge of camp, sipping his second Ebony and rubbing his poor eyes in an attempt to clear them from the atrocity they had had to witness. “He is a pleasant young man but…he is driving me up the walls with his chaos.”  
   
“Well, you know, you could just ignore it.” Gladio stretched, smiling down at his friend. “He can’t seem to change and somehow he manages to get all that crap back in his bag before we break camp every day. Let him be.”   
   
Ignis gave him a look usually reserved for second-class produce at a bad kind of farmers market.   
   
“No,” he said firmly. “I will do no such thing. But that young man needs to learn some disciplin. I will see to it myself.”  
   
Gladio dropped his meat scewer and swore when it almost scewered his toes.   
   
“You can’t mean…” He started, the look he gave Ignis more concerned than the kind of look he usually gave a horde of stampeding garulas. “Look, he’s just a kid!” He tried, a pleading note in his voice.   
   
Ignis ignored him, staring out into the daemon infested night around them.   
   
“The Vesperpool is nearby. Home to some kind of fish or other, I’m sure. I suggest you take Noctis there first thing tomorrow.” He said almost absently. “Yes, I think that would be for the best. Make up some story about a huge fish and it will keep Noct there for hours. Do no,” he shifted around and with the light of the fire reflecting in his glasses looked at least as fiendish as any deamon. Or maybe it was his tiny, tiny smile. “I repeat, not, return to camp before, oh say 10 in the morning.”

Gladio opened his mouth to protest, but quickly hung his head in defeat. There was no mercy to be found in Ignis eyes. 

 

Prompto was standing by the tent when Gladio and Noct returned from the lake the next morning – standing very still and ramrod straight, his eyes large and staring into the distance or possibly very deep into his own soul.  
   
Gladio fought down the urge to facepalm. He recognized the vacant look on the young man’s face far too well. Damn it Iggy…  
   
“Prompto? You ok, buddy?” Frowning, Noctis went up to his friend, his fishing stories forgotten for once in the face of his friends odd behavior. Usually Prompto standing still meant squirming, restlessly waving his hands and on occation even impropou dancing.   
   
“Ok? Oh yeah, I’m ok. Very ok. No problems whatsoever.” Prompto’s voice had a strange kind of sing-song tone that Noct had never heard before. He almost squirmed, but then a strange look went over his face. Not of pain or even discomfort, but definetly of distracion and...something else.   
   
“We had a little chat, Prompto and I, didn’t we?” While his tone and step were their usual brisk effectiveness, there was a strange little smile on his face that made Noctis even more confused and Gladio feel a pang of sympathy for Prompto. “About the need for discipline, am I right?” As he walked by prompt he gave the blonde’s a quick pat – much gentler than the smacks Gladio usually delivered, but this time Prompto’s whole body went rigid, his eyes if possibly even larger. A very faint ohholyshiva escaped him before he bit his lips.  
   
Gladio facepalmed despite himself and then looked around the camp quickly. Not a single piece of Prompto’s usual mess could be spotted anywhere.   
   
“Aaaalright,” Noctis decided to let whatever this was go. “Got some good news for you though, we’re going to hit some rough terrain today, so we’ll have to go by chocobo.”  
   
A look of absolute panic spread over Prompto’s face, as if Noctis had said he needed to face down a marlbouro by himself.   
   
“Chocobos?! Today? Hours of gentle bouncing and rushes of quick pace?! Gods, no, Noct!” His face took on a pleading look even as his hand strayed to the back of his pants. “Don’t do that to me!”  
   
“Discipline,” Ignis mumbled close to his ear in a way that made Prompto close his eyes and bite his lip harder, even as Ignis  pushed his hand away.  
   
Noctis looked if possible even more confused and now Gladio had to bite his own lip not to chuckle.   
   
“Well, if you really don’t want to…We’ll take the car then.”  
   
“Oh yeah, that’s just about four hours of rough driving on bad roads. Lots of pot holes and vibrations. Sound good to you, Prompto?” Gladio asked and Prompto made a sound that was suspiciously like a whine.   
   
“Look, what the hell is going on here?” Miffed at being left out of whatever was going on, Noctis sulked.   
   
“Oh, it’s just that Prompto and I had some issues stuck in a tight spot.” Ignis said airily. “But I am sure the positions will have changed by tonight.”  
   
“Tonight?!” Prompto shifted in a way that was not really uncomfortable but not really comfortable either.   
   
“Now now, no begging. Discipline, remember?”  
   
Gladio all but gave up by then and had to be led away by Ignis, laughing so hard he was all but bent over. Still having no clue what was going on, Noct turned to Prompto.   
   
“What is this all about?”  
   
Prompto squirmed a little, his gaze firmly somewhere in the distance.  
   
“Well….remember how we used to joke about Specs having a stick up his?  
   
“Yeah?”  
   
“It’s not up his any more.”


End file.
